


nothing remains (so begin again)

by luxterra



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Doyoung works in finance, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Mpreg, Police Officer Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun, Slice of Life, i love how that's an actual tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxterra/pseuds/luxterra
Summary: “But it is not our job to hold anyone accountable to the people they used to be. It is our job to travel with them between each version and to honor what emerges along the way.” - Heidi PriebeA lot can change after four years of marriage. But some changes are bigger than others.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun & Lee Taeyong, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun & Suh Youngho | Johnny, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung & Lee Taeyong, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung & Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 33
Kudos: 228





	nothing remains (so begin again)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is purely a work of fiction that contains elements which may not be to your liking, so please heed the tags. if that's the case, I'd appreciate it if you would move along and leave this to people who'd actually enjoy it. thanks!
> 
> warnings: mpreg, minor/vague smut, a handful of f-bombs

“Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary, babe. Four years, huh?”

“That’s right. Four years.” Doyoung smiles thinly, taking a delicate sip of red wine. His husband beams at him, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and helps himself to another serving of roast potatoes.

A stifling silence fills the jagged corners and empty spaces that stretch between them. They’re sitting at opposite ends of the same table but Doyoung feels as if they are separated by a vast ocean, turbulent waves pulsing and foaming.

Jaehyun clears his throat and gestures vaguely at the food before them once Doyoung makes eye contact with him. “Thank you for making dinner,” he says. “The steak is amazing. Your cooking has really improved, Doie.”

“You’re welcome. And thank you. I’ve had a lot of practice over the years, I suppose.”

Humming, Jaehyun wipes his mouth with a paper napkin. “You’ve always been the better cook between us,” he remarks. Doyoung doesn’t know what to say to that, so he elects not to say anything.

No further attempts at conversations are made and they continue to eat their dinner without speaking. Jaehyun finishes first, stands up with his plate in one hand. “I’ll do the dishes and clean up the kitchen,” he announces.

As he passes by Doyoung on his way to the sink, Jaehyun bends down to place a kiss against Doyoung’s cheek. Doyoung balks for maybe a fraction of a second before craning his neck for his husband’s easy access. Jaehyun grins at him, cheeks dimpling, and Doyoung feels a little heartsick. “Take out the trash too?” he manages to say.

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Jae.”

To pass the time while Jaehyun tidies up in the kitchen, Doyoung sits in front of the TV and mindlessly flicks between the available channels, eventually settling on a documentary about elephants. He must’ve nodded off at some point, because suddenly Jaehyun is shaking him awake. “You’re going to hurt your back if you sleep here any longer,” Jaehyun chides gently. “Let’s move to our room.”

They do relocate to their bedroom but they don’t sleep. Instead, they strip quickly in the dark and within seconds, Jaehyun is mapping every inch of Doyoung’s skin with his mouth, his breath burning. Their moans and grunts bounce off the walls almost obscenely, and Doyoung can’t help but wonder if their neighbour could hear them.

It doesn’t take long before Jaehyun’s hips stutter and he spills into Doyoung with a contented sigh, nose buried in the crook between Doyoung’s ear and shoulder. He strokes Doyoung’s cock with practiced efficiency, making his husband come with a shout, vision white-hot and thighs quivering. They lay there, chests heaving. 

“I’ll clean us up,” Jaehyun says after a while, his voice unnaturally loud in the stillness.

“Thank you.” Doyoung rolls onto his side, facing away from his husband.

The bed shifts as Jaehyun gets up to go to the bathroom. Doyoung half-listens to his soft footsteps, curious when they come to an abrupt stop.

“I love you, Doyoung,” he hears his husband murmur. Doyoung feels a sudden lump in his throat.

“Love you too.”

Jaehyun exhales and steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Marriages fizzle out over time. Eventually the novelty wears off, the complacence sets in, and neither feels the need to try as hard or as much anymore. Divorce is an omnipresent possibility, but not for people who are drawn to the familiar. If there are children involved, then said children becomes the raison d'être for the marriage to subsist. If there are none, then the marriage continues, solely driven by what once was (but is no longer). 

Doyoung knows all this. He just naively never thought it could happen to him.

He can’t remember what went wrong, when it happened. He and Jaehyun had gotten married after a solid, stable three-year relationship that was the envy of their peers. They first met at a mutual friend’s birthday party, when Jaehyun was still in the police academy and Doyoung was in college, and they’ve been together ever since. They were opposites in every way yet they shared the same vision: white picket fence, two kids, a dog.

Somewhere along the way, things changed. Their careers progress. They fight less, only because they talk less. Two years into their marriage, they move to a nice three-bedroom apartment, abandoning all previous fantasies of a brick house with a lush backyard. Doyoung develops an allergy to dogs. They never quite get around to discussing the two kids they initially wanted to have.

It really isn’t _that_ dire, Doyoung often tries to reason with himself. After all, they still sleep in the same bed. Their sex life is great, all things considered. Jaehyun comes home in time for dinner every night whenever he doesn’t work the night shift. They celebrate every birthday, every anniversary.

So, Doyoung decides, they could be worse off.

Really.

“I have a date this weekend.”

“Girl or guy?”

“A girl this time.” Youngho adds proudly, “She’s a _model_.”

Jaehyun tries his hardest not to roll his eyes but alas, he only has so much resolve. “If all she does is post reviews of clothes on Instagram, she’s hardly a model, Johns.”

“Is too,” insists Youngho, scowling at him.

“Is not.”

“Is too!”

“Is—”

“Knock it off.” Their colleague, Joohyun, knocks them both on the head with a stack of rolled-up papers. “You two are such juveniles.” She leans against Jaehyun’s desk, crossing her arms over her chest. “But you should really take it easy on Youngho, Jaehyun-ah. Not everyone is married to a handsome financial analyst, hm?” she teases, waggling her eyebrows a little.

Jaehyun could practically feel his ears turning red. “Should I be worried that you’re so interested in my husband, noona?”

“I’m not into men.” Joohyun tilts her head to her side. “But for Doyoung, I could be.”

“Honestly, same,” says Youngho, nodding slowly as if in serious thought. “I mean, I’m already into men, but Doyoung is just—”

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Jaehyun interjects, giving Youngho a glare. “I really don’t think it’s appropriate to discuss my husband at the workplace.”

Shrugging, Youngho comments, “Well, Doyoung is a solid guy. I think it’s really cool of him to be so chill about you conducting the training at the academy this weekend. You know, since it’s his mom’s birthday and all, and you guys were supposed to drive down for lunch.”

Jaehyun could’ve sworn his heart skipped at least two beats. “How do you know that?” he demands. “His mom’s birthday is next weekend, not this weekend.”

Youngho fixes him with a wholly unimpressed look, jabs a finger at the calendar on his desk. “You wrote it down. And it’s in your work calendar too.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Indeed.”

“That’s the third time this year that you’ve gone and double-booked yourself. Rookie mistake, Officer Jung,” Joohyun muses. “Your trip to Busan, his company dinner. Just how many more times are you going to take your poor husband for granted?” The remark is only tongue-in-cheek, yet Jaehyun feels the sting.

“I wish I could do the training for you but I’ll be on duty that morning. Sehun made me switch with him because his dog needs to get surgery or some shit,” Youngho says, apologetic. “You know how he gets about Vivi.”

Sighing, Jaehyun shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. The training is a big thing and I already said I’d do it, so there’s definitely no getting out of it. I’ll just have to tell Doyoung. I’m sure he’ll…understand.” 

“Exactly,” Youngho agrees, slapping his partner on the back hearteningly. “Doyoung always understands.”

“Right. Always.”

“I understand,” Doyoung says automatically when Jaehyun breaks the news to him while they undress for bed that night. “The training’s important, isn’t it? Mom will understand too. Everyone knows how busy you are.” In spite of his calmness, the placating words that he uses, Jaehyun can sense that he is upset. The tight purse of his lips, the barely-there furrow of his brow – as much as Doyoung tries to deny it, he has more than one tell and Jaehyun recognizes all of them.

“I’m so sorry. You know that I would never do this on purpose. I love spending time with your fam—”

“Yes, and they love you too.” Doyoung cuts him off brusquely, his smile tight-lipped. “It’s fine, Jaehyun-ah. This isn’t exactly the first time this happened.”

The remark comes off harsher, more accusing than he intended, but Doyoung doesn’t retract it. A petty part of him feels satisfied when Jaehyun promptly looks ashamed.

“I know it’s not the first time,” Jaehyun begins. “And I—”

“Jae. I _get_ your job. I never had a problem with it before, and I’m not about to start now.” _We never talked about things before, and we’re not about to start now_.

Jaehyun’s lips part like he wants to argue and Doyoung wishes he would, but of course he doesn’t. “If you say so,” murmurs Jaehyun, crawling onto the bed.

“I do.” Doyoung is careful to keep the resentment out of his voice. “But you’re the one who’s going to pick up Mom’s gift at the store. It’s closer to the station than my workplace.”

“I can do that,” Jaehyun says instantly. “I’ll go tomorrow after my shift. I promise.” He pecks his husband on the cheek before burrowing deeper under the covers.

They both lie awake a while longer, backs to each other.

Taeyong eyes his friend critically. “You know,” he drawls, “if you stab that salad any harder, you’re going to make a hole in the table.” Taking a closer look at the salad bowl, he wrinkles his nose. “Are you actually eating cucumbers? You hate the stuff.”

“This is a ready-made salad,” snaps Doyoung. “I was too hungry to wait for them to take the cucumbers out.”

“If you were actually hungry then you should’ve gotten something more substantial.” Sooyoung cheerfully holds up her cheeseburger. “Like this unhealthy, fattening, absolutely _delicious_ burger.”

In truth, the sight of her burger makes Doyoung feel a little queasy, but he doesn’t say so. “Well, I’m not that hungry and the salad seemed like the most appetizing choice, so…”

There’s a brief pause before Taeyong asks, “So what was the fight about?”

“What fight?” Doyoung replies, feigning ignorance.

“The fight you and Jaehyun had last night. Your appetite always goes haywire whenever you’re upset. It’s been that way since college and I doubt it’s changed since.”

Doyoung feels a hot flush seep into his face. “We didn’t _fight_.”

“You guys never do,” Sooyoung points out. “Isn’t that the problem?”

The last thing Doyoung wants to do is discuss his marital issues with his friends, despite the fact that he and Taeyong were roommates throughout college – and it was Taeyong’s birthday party that united him and Jaehyun, after all – and Sooyoung was the first friend he made at work when he started at the company some two years ago.

Nevertheless, Doyoung finds himself caving. “Jaehyun can’t make it to my mom’s birthday lunch this weekend,” he sighs. “He has to conduct a training at the academy.”

“Again?”

Doyoung shrugs, poking at the veggies in his salad bowl idly.

“And _again_ , when he apologized and tried to make it up to you, you said it was fine and he dropped the subject,” Sooyoung intones, as if reciting from memory. She doesn’t receive a verbal response from her friend but the lack thereof already cements her assumption.

Frustrated, Taeyong runs a hand through his hair. “As a friend to both of you, I just want to say that you two are wonderful people and I love you, but you guys are the literal _worst_ at communicating. How have you managed to say married for four years?”

“We try,” Doyoung replies flatly.

“Well, you need to try harder.” Leaning back in his chair, Taeyong says, “Jaehyun loves you and he is just as invested as you are but he’s only human. You have expectations for him, as he does for you. It would do both of you the world of good to remember that every now and then, people don’t always remember. So when they don’t, you have to _remind_ them.”

“As someone who’s married, I completely agree with Taeyong.” Sooyoung never misses a chance to flaunt her marriage – and new baby – but no one really minds since she does it so earnestly, devoid of ill intentions. “My husband and I have been communicating much better ever since Yerim came along.”

Grateful for the change of subject, Doyoung probes, “And how is our Yerim?”

“Oh, she just learned how to crawl!” raves Sooyoung, unlocking her phone so she can show them the latest video of her daughter. “She’s so stinkin’ cute, I can’t stand it.” Nose crinkling, she ponders, “But you know, Doyoung-ah, I can’t wait to see your baby someday. You yourself are a handsome man and your cop husband… _whew_. Need I say more?”

“No, you don’t,” Doyoung replies, blushing furiously.

The conversation ends when one of their colleagues walks over and engages both Sooyoung and Taeyong in a discussion about the upcoming audit. Doyoung continues to eat his salad as they chatter in front of him, his mind fixated on the image of Jaehyun cradling a newborn in his strong arms, an impossibly tiny copy of him, dimples and all.

The illness creeps up on him, sporadic enough not to be entirely noticeable, so Doyoung does his level best to ignore it. He drinks more water, sleeps earlier, eats healthier. The symptoms are mild, anyhow; limited to occasional vomiting, intermittent bouts of dizziness. For the most part, Doyoung is capable of keeping up with his normal routine.

Until he throws up at work. During a meeting.

“Ah, hyung,” Donghyuck says, looking a little green around the gills himself. The intern carefully sets the trash can he’s been holding for Doyoung onto the floor. “You’re lucky I have such quick reflexes.”

“Sorry.” Doyoung is horrified to feel his eyes tingling, foreshadowing an onslaught of tears. “This is so embarrassing.”

“You really should’ve called in sick,” Seungwan chastises, not unkindly. “This meeting isn’t so important that it can’t be rescheduled. Plus, you won’t be able to get any work done while you’re feeling so awful anyway.”

“Yeah,” replies Doyoung, exhaling. He gratefully accepts the water bottle Donghyuck hands to him, uncaps it and takes several gulps.

His supervisor, Baekhyun, points a pen at him. “You’re taking the rest of the day off, mister,” he orders, his firm tone brooking no room for argument. “I don’t care if you see the doctor or if you just go home to sleep but I don’t want you here.” Shuddering, he adds, “Gosh, seeing you throw up really brings me back to when I had morning sickness with the twins. Not fun.”

Seungwan’s eyes widen. “Oh, Doyoung-ah, I didn’t know you were pregnant. Congrats!”

“Uh, I…” Doyoung swiftly gathers his belongings. “I’ll just go now. See you tomorrow if I’m feeling better.” He rushes out of the conference room.

“Officer Jung?”

Jaehyun looks up from his computer screen, quirking an eyebrow at the junior officer expectantly.

“There’s a Mr. Lee Taeyong here to see you. He’s in the waiting room.”

“Alright, thank you,” says Jaehyun, both puzzled and concerned by Taeyong’s appearance at the station. He saves the case report he’s been working on with a few clicks before making his way to the waiting room.

“Taeyong?”

Taeyong looks up from his cell phone. “Hello, Jaehyun-ah,” he greets his friend, beaming. His smile dims a little when he takes in Jaehyun’s guarded expression. “ _Oh_ ,” yelps Taeyong when realization hits him. “Oh, God. Everything’s fine, Jae. Nothing’s wrong. I can see now how dropping in on you unannounced could be a bad thing.”

Visibly relaxing, Jaehyun couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, the last people us cops would want to see at the station are our families and friends.”

“Right,” Taeyong says sheepishly, shaking his head. “Anyway, I took the day off work to run some errands but I heard Doyoung is sick, so I made him some soup.” He lifts the paper bag he’s holding for Jaehyun to see. “My place is closer to the station than it is to your place, so I figured I’ll just drop this off for you to take home later.”

“Doyoung’s sick?” Jaehyun frowns.

“Pretty sick, apparently. Sooyoung told me that he almost threw up on his intern during a meeting, then he got sent home.”

“He didn’t tell me,” says Jaehyun, the deep-rooted worry in his chest unfurling. He scrolls through his phone to see if he missed a text from his husband but his inbox is empty. He shoots a quick text to Doyoung ( _hey, TY told me ur sick. u ok?_ ) and puts his phone back into his pocket.

Taeyong hesitates, gnawing on his bottom lip, before pointing out, “I think there’s a lot that he doesn’t tell you these days.”

Jaehyun grimaces. “I know,” he mumbles. “I feel like I just keep disappointing him.”

“That’s not true, Jae. He loves you.”

“You can love someone _and_ be disappointed in them.”

“Doie is just one of those people who puts up a front all the time. He may be a tough nut to crack but you just have to keep chipping away at him until he crumbles,” Taeyong advises, ever the wise companion. “Of course, it takes a lot of time and patience. And God knows just how passive-aggressive he can be when he wants to.”

Jaehyun barks out a laugh. “Don’t I know it.”

“Don’t be discouraged, Jae. This is just a bump in the road.”

A bump, indeed.

Jaehyun pushes the front door open to find his husband lying on his side on the couch, the TV turned on with the volume low. He sees that Doyoung’s eyes are open but the gaze that’s directed at the TV is empty, unfocused.

“Babe? I’m home,” Jaehyun announces softly. The greeting startles Doyoung out of his reverie and he sits up, though the movement is slow.

“Are you feeling okay? You didn’t reply my text.” Walking over to the couch, Jaehyun sits next to his husband but keeps some distance between them. “Taeyong sent some soup to the station for you. I can heat it up if you want me to.” When Doyoung doesn’t answer, Jaehyun says, treading carefully, “I really wish you’d told me you were sick. Sure, I couldn’t stay home to take care of you but I could have at least picked you up at work and sent you home with some food.”

Sighing, Doyoung pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sick, Jaehyun.”

“It’s pretty obvious that you are,” Jaehyun rebuts, beginning to sound annoyed. “Taeyong said—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Jaehyun’s jaw goes slack. Under different circumstances, Doyoung would have teased him, giggled, smooched him silly, but as it stands, Doyoung doesn’t think there’s much to laugh about. “Three positive tests,” he explains. “So I went to get my blood taken earlier and the results will be out in a few days but the doctor seemed pretty certain.”

“But you hate needles,” Jaehyun comments absently, brows knitted together as he tries to digest the situation.

“Yeah, well, I should start getting used to them.”

“Because you’ll have to undergo more tests.”

“Yes.”

“Because of the baby. That’s inside you.”

“That’s right,” Doyoung answers in a tone he usually reserves for children below the age of five.

“We’re really having a baby?”

Now Doyoung does let out a chortle. “I believe that’s what being pregnant means.”

Still shell-shocked, Jaehyun leans back into the couch cushions. After a few moments of stewing in his own thoughts, he turns to Doyoung, placing his hands firmly on his husband’s waist. Doyoung wills himself to look Jaehyun in the eye.

“What do _you_ feel about this?” Jaehyun asks, more serious than Doyoung has seen him in a long time. “I want you to be honest.”

Taken aback, Doyoung splutters, “I’m fine. I mean—”

“Doyoung. Be honest, please.”

“Scared shitless.” Doyoung sounds defeated. “Absolutely terrified, really.”

“And why is that?”

“Because any sane person would be afraid of bringing a living, breathing _child_ into this crazy world, and having to make sure said child is fed, clothed, educated and happy for 18 years.”

Jaehyun nods, reaching for his husband’s hands. “As much as all that is true, what other reason is there for you to be so scared?” When Doyoung seems to curl into himself, Jaehyun tenderly moves his thumbs in a soothing circular motion. “I won’t know what’s wrong if you don’t tell me,” pleads Jaehyun.

Eyes filling with tears, Doyoung says, “We’re not okay, Jae. We haven’t been in a while and a baby isn’t going to magically fix that.” It brings him respite to admit to his husband that their marriage is fraying at the edges but there’s also a stab of fear; putting it into words gives it meaning, makes it real.

“I know.” Jaehyun looks equal parts guilty and hurt. “Something’s not right and we should’ve fixed it a long time ago, but we can’t change the past.”

Doyoung nods in assent.

“The baby won’t be here for another nine months, so we’ll use that time to work on ourselves. Work on _us_.”

“Another eight months, actually,” Doyoung sniffs. “Based on my calculation, I’d say I’m about six weeks along. The doctor has to confirm it, of course, but I don’t think I’m far off.”

“Eight months is still plenty of time,” assures Jaehyun, repositioning them so that Doyoung is held flush against his side. “There’s no shame in getting help, like from a therapist.”

Despite having verbalized their marital problems, Doyoung still doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with the prospect of acknowledging its existence on a different platform. “We’ll consider that later,” he mutters.

“Sure.” If he’s disappointed by the setback, Jaehyun doesn’t indicate it. Instead, he presses a long kiss to the crown of his husband’s head. “I can’t believe you’re having my baby,” he says, clearly still in awe.

“ _Our_ baby,” corrects Doyoung, “and I’m pretty sure I’m doing most of the work here.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

They decide to tell their families after their first appointment with the doctor, who puts Doyoung and the baby at seven weeks. The response from Doyoung’s family is warm yet understated, given that his older brother already has kids, a boy and a girl each. Jaehyun’s parents, on the other hand, are over the moon at the prospect of their only child having his own child. His mother wouldn’t stop crying and his father just keeps looking at Jaehyun, then Doyoung, then back to Jaehyun again, misty-eyed.

“I guess it’s obvious which set of grandparents is going to spoil the baby more,” Doyoung comments as they get into the car after saying goodbye to his in-laws.

“I know it’s a little overwhelming but they’re just excited. They’ve been waiting for this a long time.”

“It’s not a bad thing that they’re excited,” Doyoung says, contrite. “I’d rather they be a little too excited than indifferent.” Still anxious that he’d offended his husband, Doyoung adds as an afterthought: “Maybe I can ask your mom to pull out some of your old things from storage. For the baby to use.”

“That sounds like a nice idea,” Jaehyun replies easily. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you have to worry any more. I’m sure our friends will take the news well.”

They’ve arranged to have lunch with their closest group of mutual friends, on the premise of catching up with Yuta and Ten, the foreigners in their little clique. After graduating from college, both Yuta and Ten had returned to their respective home countries. While Ten travels to Korea for business trips fairly often, this is Yuta’s first visit in two years and he’s brought along his five-month-old daughter, whom none of them have met yet.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing Yuta again,” Doyoung remarks, looking out the window as buildings and cars pass by. “I can’t believe he’s a dad now. Hina is just too cute for words.”

“Our baby is going to be cuter.” Jaehyun grins dopily. “With your eyes and my dimples, he or she will be unstoppable.”

“Fair enough,” Doyoung replies, the corner of his lip twitching as he fights back a smile.

By the time they arrive at the restaurant, only Taeyong has arrived, which is to be expected. “I thought all of you would be more punctual as adults, but I thought wrong,” is the reception they get him from him.

“You know we have to be slow and steady these days,” Jaehyun retorts smugly, “what with the precious cargo on board.”

Embarrassed, Doyoung punches him on the arm as he takes a seat. “Shut up.”

“Ah, typical primitive alpha male behavior, delighted that his chosen mate is carrying their offspring,” teases Taeyong. Doyoung deftly grabs the menu and hits him with it. “Stop talking about us like we’re on National Geographic. And stop talking for real because the others are here.”

Taeil and Ten reach the table first, Yuta lagging behind. They clamor over each other, exchanging hugs and rushed greetings. Doyoung avoids the hubbub and approaches Yuta instead, making a beeline for the baby girl strapped to Yuta’s chest in a carrier. “Hello,” he gushes. “Is this the Hina I’ve heard so much about?”

“Hello to you too, Doyoungie,” Yuta says, rolling his eyes. “Not like we haven’t met in two years or anything.”

Laughing, Doyoung gives his friend a hug, made awkward by the obvious barrier that is Hina. She blinks at him curiously, thumb in her mouth. “Yuta, she’s _adorable_.” Doyoung makes grabby hands at the rosy-cheeked baby, already smitten.

“Great, then you can hold her while I eat, because I’m _starving_.”

They catch up over lunch, Ten regaling them with tales of his worldwide travels and Taeil showing them the latest pictures of his two-year-old twin boys.

“I don’t know how you and your wife deal with two kids at once,” Yuta remarks, shaking his head. “We only have Hina yet our place is a madhouse.”

As if on cue, Hina starts to fuss, thrashing in Doyoung’s hold with unexpected strength. “No, no, what’s wrong?” Doyoung soothes, shifting her to his other side to see if she’d be more comfortable. Hina remains unimpressed, on the verge of a tantrum. Before Doyoung could pass the baby to Yuta, Jaehyun offers, “Here, I’ll take her.”

Albeit reluctantly, Doyoung hands Hina to his husband. “Be careful.”

“Of course I’ll be careful with this pretty girl,” Jaehyun coos, resting Hina against his shoulder and rubbing her back slowly. “No need for that temper, right? You’re okay, Hina-yah. Precious baby. Cute lil’ bug, huh?” Like she’s been put under a spell, Hina settles down, head on his shoulder and chubby fingers curled against his neck.

“Baby whisperer,” Taeyong says, impressed, as Doyoung stares at the infant. “What a traitor.”

“Well, if that doesn’t give you baby fever, I don’t know what will.” Taeil raises his eyebrows suggestively at Doyoung. Being the first in their group to have kids, he’s a staunch pro-parenthood advocate and vows that children are the most wonderful creatures to grace God’s green earth.

“It does,” Doyoung acknowledges, ever so casually, “which is why we’re having a baby.”

A hush falls over their table. Taeil, Ten and Yuta sport matching looks of astonishment, while Taeyong continues to barbecue meat on the grill, unbothered. As Doyoung’s colleague, the baby news was broken to him much earlier since Doyoung had to inform their boss and it was only a matter of time before Taeyong found out as well.

“Like, you guys are finally planning on it?” asks Ten, nose scrunched up in confusion. “That’s great…right?”

“No, like Doyoung is pregnant.” Proudly, Jaehyun places his free hand on Doyoung’s stomach, despite his husband’s grumbling that there’s nothing to feel yet. Their table erupts into cheers of congratulations, alarming Hina who starts to bawl. Jaehyun stands up to pacify the baby, bouncing her lightly. “Welcome to a preview of your life in the near future,” Ten cackles. 

Meanwhile, Taeil beams at Doyoung, starry-eyed. “I can’t believe my encouragement finally paid off.”

“You mean your incessant nagging and unsubtle pressuring,” Yuta corrects him, deadpan. Snorting, Taeyong adds, “I’m pretty sure half the population of Seoul is a result of Taeil’s ‘encouragement’. I think Hina could be a product of that too.”

“ _Regardless_ ,” interrupts Taeil, “congrats to you both. That baby is lucky to have such wonderful parents.”

Doyoung bursts into tears, surprising not just himself but also his friends. Only his husband remains unperturbed. After all, it was only two days ago that Doyoung snapped at him for buying the wrong brand of detergent. Jaehyun has learned to take things in stride at this point.

While the others flock around Doyoung, Yuta whispers to Jaehyun, “This happened before?”

“Two days ago.”

“Cause?”

“Laundry detergent. Wrong brand.”

“Ah.” Yuta nods sagely, as only a man with experience could. “There’s a chance that it could only get worse from now on.”

“I know,” Jaehyun sighs. “But it’ll be worth it?”

Eyes softening, Yuta claps him on the back. “More than anything,” he promises. “Anything in the world.”

“I thought we were going to work on that together this weekend,” is the first thing Jaehyun blurts out when he comes home to find screws and wood panels strewn all over their living room. Doyoung is sitting primly in the middle of the mess, poring over a piece of paper. “I had nothing else to do so I figured I’d get a head start,” he answers, preoccupied by the manual he’s studying.

“I really don’t feel comfortable with the idea of you assembling an entire dresser by yourself.”

Visibly irritated, Doyoung glares at Jaehyun. “As much as you want to coddle me and smother me in bubble wrap, that’s not happening.” Picking up a screwdriver, Doyoung says coolly, “I have always been able to take care of myself, do things on my own. That’s not going to change now that I’m carrying your kid.”

Jaehyun bites his tongue, quelling the deep ache he feels at his husband’s offhand remark. Now that Doyoung has entered the second trimester, the bouts of morning sickness are few and far between. He’s simultaneously more energetic and more moody. The gentle swell of his abdomen, still small enough to hide under oversized hoodies but not for much longer, floods every fiber of Jaehyun’s being with trepidation. Their child is resting right underneath Doyoung’s skin; fragile, vulnerable, one wrong move…

As a cop, Jaehyun has seen a lot and on some days, too much. The world is a truly ugly place, cruelly taking and rarely giving. Years of training have toughened him, enabled him to have razor-sharp focus on any given task, but things are different now that he has an additional person to protect. A child – _his_ child – who’s utterly defenseless against the many evils of mankind.

Jaehyun is constantly in a state of unadulterated _fear_. The nightmares are persistent. Sometimes he loses Doyoung, sometimes the baby, sometimes both. It’s become a norm for him to wake up in the middle of the night, groping for Doyoung, only able to relax once his palm makes contact with the firmness of his husband’s belly.

“I’m just worried,” Jaehyun says by way of an explanation, swallowing hard lest the blend of terror and apprehension roiling in his chest manifests itself into words.

The disclosure seems to take the edge off Doyoung some, at least. “I know that,” Doyoung concedes, “but you know I’m always careful. I got this.” He gets up, slowly, as if to make a point. Smoothing a hand over his stomach, he announces, “By the way, we’re having pizza for dinner. Baby felt like pepperoni and extra cheese.”

Jaehyun huffs out a laugh. “You don’t say. I could smell it from the elevator.”

“Garlic bread and chicken wings too.”

“Not even born yet but already eating us out of house and home,” Jaehyun moans, pulling his husband close so he can press his face against the bump.

“Don’t fat-shame our kid.” Threading his fingers through Jaehyun’s jet-black hair, Doyoung mutters, “You look tired.”

“Same old, same old.” Jaehyun shrugs. “Long day.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Jaehyun almost gives in, nearly divulges his every worry, but catches himself at the last second. He figures the last thing Doyoung would need is more things to fret over. “It’s fine,” he assures. “Nothing pepperoni pizza with extra cheese can’t fix.”

“Plus garlic bread,” Doyoung reminds him. “And chicken wings.”

“Perfect.”

They kiss, sweet and languid, and Jaehyun tries not to think about how he’s holding his entire world in his arms, how easily they could slip through the cracks between his fingers.

Something’s not right with Jaehyun, Doyoung knows. Not that it makes him any less pissed right now.

Of course it’s not the first time that Jaehyun missed a prenatal appointment. He wasn’t present during the last one since he was on a stakeout, but at least he had given Doyoung a heads-up, so Sooyoung had accompanied Doyoung to the appointment instead.

But today’s appointment is important, and Jaehyun knows it. He _promised_.

Doyoung groans when he feels tears prick his eyelids. Looking down at his stomach, he scolds, “All this crying is getting really old, you know. I’m tougher than this.” He steadfastly ignores his phone that’s buzzing noisily on the seat next to him. Jaehyun has been texting and calling him non-stop, probably to apologize with some half-baked excuse, but he hasn’t answered once.

“I think it’s about time we get home, huh? We’ve been here long enough.” Doyoung stands up with a wince, one hand on his lower back. Now that he’s halfway through, it’s become pretty apparent just how much the baby has grown.

Before he could even take another step, the automatic doors to the clinic yawn open, revealing a breathless, sweaty Jaehyun.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately when their eyes lock. “Baby, I’m so—”

“Save it.” The tone Doyoung employs is sharp, grating. Luckily for them, there’s no one else in the reception area to witness their argument, save for the receptionist who’s staring at her computer screen with an intensity that could only be forced.

Approaching his husband with cautious steps, Jaehyun says, “There’s been a robbery at this huge, high-end jewelry store in Gangnam and I got called in. I tried to get Youngho and Joohyun to cover for me but they needed all hands on deck and I…” He trails off, knowing that whatever explanation he has to offer would most certainly fall on deaf ears.

Doyoung would like to think that he’s not an unreasonable man. As the spouse of a cop, he’s familiar with the unpredictability of the job, how even the most thought-out plan could be turned upside down in the blink of an eye. Ultimately, Jaehyun belongs to the city and its people, not to him. He knows all this.

But the baby doesn’t. The baby _won’t_. Visions of Jaehyun missing birthday parties and dance recitals and Christmas flash before his eyes and the muted anger Doyoung feels burns afresh. A horde of emotions wells up within him, none of them good.

“It’s a boy.”

For someone who’s usually so good at concealing his feelings, Jaehyun does a poor job at it this time. Just one look at his face, lined with fatigue and pure _hurt_ , and Doyoung knows instantly that he fucked up.

“You found out without me,” murmurs Jaehyun. It’s a statement, not a question.

Instead of backtracking, maybe even apologizing, Doyoung finds himself saying: “I don’t think you’re in a position to complain about what I decide for my child.” What he’s doing to his husband is vicious, but he couldn’t grasp enough clarity to see through the haze of his own unresolved rage.

“I’m trying.” Jaehyun’s eyes are red with the effort of holding back tears. “I have been. I’m sorry it’s not enough.”

Doyoung doesn’t respond.

The walkie-talkie strapped to Jaehyun’s belt crackles. There’s some static before a gravelly voice spits out a code then some location in Gangnam that Doyoung recognizes. Jaehyun hurriedly reaches for the walkie-talkie, reciting his name and ID for the dispatcher. “I’m on my way,” he confirms.

Meeting his husband’s stare, Jaehyun says, “Hostage situation.”

Dread flares in Doyoung’s gut, edged with worry, but he’s still too upset to say much. “Go, then.”

“You’ll be fine getting to work by yourself?”

“Of course.”

Jaehyun nods, turning to leave before hesitating.

“What is it?” Doyoung questions, trying not to sound too impatient.

“I know you’re mad at me but just…please be safe. That’s all I ask. I love you, Doyoung. Both of you.”

Jaehyun jogs off before Doyoung can say anything in return, and it fills him with more unease than he’d care to admit.

“Doie.”

Doyoung looks up to see Taeyong, hovering over the entrance to his cubicle. “Taeyong-ah,” he replies. “What’s up?”

“Have you heard from Jaehyun yet?” Taeyong asks, anxious. “It was a shitshow, according to the news. Three dead, six injured.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. He always said that no news is good news in situations like this,” says Doyoung, more confidently than he feels. The baby squirms, likely displeased by his accelerated heartbeat. He rubs his belly, unsure if he’s trying to calm his son or himself. If anything happens to Jaehyun, if the fight at the clinic this morning is their last conversation—

Doyoung seizes the trashcan underneath his desk and unceremoniously vomits into it.

“Hey, hey.” Taeyong is obviously panicked but is trying not to seem like he is, which makes his panic all the more glaring. “Jaehyun is fit, experienced and above all, smart. He wouldn’t have been caught in a situation like that,” he insists. “He’s going to call you soon, let you know that he’s perfectly fine. You’ll see.”

“We fought this morning, because he missed the appointment. The last thing he said to me was that he loves me and the baby both. But I didn’t say it back, Taeyong,” Doyoung rambles, openly crying now. “I didn’t say it back because I was mad and _stupid_ a-and what if I never get to say it again to him? What if that was t-the last time I saw him?”

“ _No_.” Shaking his head, Taeyong holds his friend by the shoulders. “Jaehyun is okay and you’ll be able to tell him everything that you told me when you see him later. Because you will.”

Doyoung’s phone lights up with a call, effectively stunting their conversation. A quick glance at the screen tells him that it’s an unknown number.

Taeyong pales, unable to conjure up any more comforting words.

Clearing his throat, Doyoung presses the green button and holds the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Is this Mr. Kim Doyoung, husband of Officer Jung Jaehyun?”

“Speaking,” Doyoung replies, voice faint.

“I’m Officer Park Chanyeol from the Seoul Police Station. Sir, Officer Jung has been shot in the line of duty during the robbery in Gangnam earlier.”

The entire world fades into a fuzzy blur, the ringing in his ears overtaking the background noise. Doyoung vaguely registers Taeyong grabbing his phone out of his hand, probably to get more details from the Chanyeol guy, but he doesn’t notice much of it.

“Doyoung? Taeyong? What happened?” There’s a familiar voice. It’s Sooyoung, he thinks.

But before Doyoung could respond, his entire world abruptly lapses into blackness.

By the time they get to the hospital close to an hour later, Doyoung is a total wreck. He’s distraught to the point that he couldn’t even drink water, certain that it’d come right back up. Taeyong walks beside him like a silent shadow, also too stricken to speak unnecessarily.

Once they reach the floor the receptionist had directed them to, Doyoung looks around frantically for a familiar face, head swiveling from left to right and back again. “I think that’s Youngho,” he tells Taeyong, spotting a familiar uniform from the corner of his eye. “Youngho!”

Youngho, fixated on his phone, snaps his head up at the mention of his name. “Doyoung,” he greets, standing up. His eyes briefly flick to the distinct curve of Doyoung’s abdomen. “Oh, you’re _pregnant_ pregnant.”

Disregarding the comment, Doyoung presses, “Jaehyun? W-where is he?”

“He just got out of surgery, like 10 minutes ago. Everything went great. The doctor expects him to make a full and fast recovery.”

The relief that courses through Doyoung’s veins is so rapid and acute that it makes him dizzy, turning his legs to jelly.

“Whoa, hey, you should sit down.” Alarmed, Youngho eases Doyoung down onto the seat he’d occupied previously. Glancing at Taeyong, he requests, “Do you think you can get him something to eat? And something sweet to drink too.”

“Sure. I’ll get something from the vending machine.” Taeyong strides away, leaving the two of them.

Youngho crosses his arms as he studies Doyoung, oozing concern. “No offence, but you look _terrible_ ,” he remarks. “That can’t be good for Baby Youngho.”

“Bold of you to assume we’d name our son after you.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot.” Suddenly, Youngho beams. “Oh, so it _is_ a boy! Nice.”

The reference to their son reminds Doyoung of the argument he and Jaehyun had, how the day could have turned out differently. “I almost lost him,” he croaks, stemming his tears with the heels of his palms. “Just like that.”

“It was only a bullet to his shoulder, Doyoung. In and out. It looked like a pretty clean, minor wound to me, and the doctor agrees.” Youngho shakes his head. “If anything, I think he’ll be even more pissed at the fact that he scared you half to death than the fact that he got shot,” he says, only somewhat joking.

Doyoung lets out a scoff. “Don’t be silly.”

“No, for real, the first thing he said after he got shot is to make sure nobody tells you, because he didn’t want you to worry.” Sitting down next to Doyoung, Youngho remarks, “He can’t stop talking about you and the baby, you know. I think he showed the sonogram to the _entire_ station, even the janitor.”

“Ugh, he’s so embarrassing.”

Youngho hums in agreement. “You two are his entire universe, Doyoung,” Youngho says, tone softening. “And after all the shit we see on this job, it’s safe to say that he’s ten times more afraid to lose you than you are to lose him.”

Jaehyun awakens, blinking. There’s a fleeting moment of disorientation before he recalls, _oh, right, I got shot_. He wriggles a bit to get comfortable, grunting when the dull ache on his left shoulder starts to throb again.

“You’re awake.” Turning to his right, Jaehyun finds his husband, looking worse for wear. “Babe, hi,” Doyoung greets him with a watery smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I told them not to tell you.”

“I don’t think your personal wish matters much in comparison to the station’s policy.” Mildly reproachful, Doyoung points out, “Besides, how did you plan on hiding a _gunshot wound_ from your husband?”

Jaehyun opts not to answer. Instead, he interlaces their fingers, presses the back of Doyoung’s hand to his lips. “I’m sorry I made you worry,” he says, quiet.

“You just _had_ to win the argument, right? Nothing can top getting shot, that’s for sure.” As usual, Doyoung deflects any attempts to lure his feelings out. His defense mechanism is to mock, to opt for sarcasm rather than lay his soul bare.

Sighing, somehow fond and exasperated at the same time, Jaehyun remarks, “Sometimes I really wish you would just apologize, Doyoung.”

There’s a split second where the room seems to freeze, tension straining, before Doyoung starts sobbing, like a dam within him has broken. To say that Jaehyun is stunned would be an understatement. Of course he’s seen his husband cry before, but never to this extent. “Doie,” he coos, at a loss, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m sorry.” The words coming out of Doyoung’s mouth are foreign, so seldom articulated that Jaehyun half-thinks he misheard him. “I’m sorry for picking a fight this morning. You didn’t have a choice, it was an e-emergency and—and you didn’t mean to but I was just so angry, so disappointed and s-so _petty_ and I could’ve…I could’ve lost you. We could’ve lost you today.” Doyoung covers his face with his trembling hands, sniveling feebly.

“Hey,” murmurs Jaehyun, gently pulling his hands away. “You would never lose me. I’d have done everything I could to make sure I come home to you and our son.”

“God, I’m so sorry I found out the baby’s sex without you.” Doyoung is convinced that his eyes are the size of golf balls by now, based on the amount of crying he’s done today. “I was just…”

“…feeling vindictive because you were hurt, so you wanted to hurt me.” Jaehyun reaches over, wipes his husband’s tears away with the pad of his thumb. “You’re pregnant, emotional and tired. It’s okay, baby. You get a pass.”

“You keep giving me all these passes!” exclaims Doyoung, indignant. “Stop treating me like I’m made of glass. If something’s not okay, _tell me_.”

Torn, Jaehyun says, “It’s hard for me to do that. I don’t want to stress you out any more than you already are.”

Doyoung is, expectedly, unconvinced. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Doie—”

“Tell me.”

They glower at each other, a silent battle of wits that ends when Jaehyun blows out a breath, frustrated. “You’re carrying our baby,” he begins, hesitant. “You know how it feels, you understand what your body is doing, but I don’t. All I see is my _pregnant_ husband who insists on doing everything himself. Do I feel excluded? Sure. But most of all, I feel helpless.”

At the lack of a response from Doyoung, Jaehyun plows on. “Every day, I see bad things happen to good people. Every day, the bubble you build around yourself and the baby gets a little sturdier. And every day, I feel like I could do even less to protect you.”

Doyoung frowns, mulling over his husband’s confession. “I never intended to exclude you,” he asserts, guiding Jaehyun’s hand so his palm lies flat on his taut belly. “He’s every bit yours as he is mine.” Still sniffling, he continues, “My body isn’t my own right now. And it won’t be for a while. To feel like myself, I just have to do as much as I can on my own.”

“That, and also your distrust in me because I’m somehow always not there when you need me the most.”

Despite being in a repentant, forbearing mood, Doyoung doesn’t deem it wise to blindly agree, so he doesn’t deny it. “I know you try but I just get so upset, sometimes irrationally and most times with reason.”

Jaehyun snorts. “Reasons that you don’t tell me, which then gives you an excuse to say shit you don’t mean out of spite.”

“Wow, they must’ve put you on some strong drugs because you’re acting pretty brave right now, Jung Jaehyun.”

They laugh and for the first time in a long time, it’s weightless; magnanimous, free of blame.

“Let’s do it.”

“Do what?”

“Therapy. Marriage counseling. Whatever you call it.”

For someone so mulish like Doyoung, seeking help is a difficult feat, so Jaehyun acknowledges this herculean effort on his husband’s part. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll be stuck at home for a while so we’ll have plenty of time to get that sorted out. I can get a lot done for the baby too. The nursery, the furniture.”

Realistically, Jaehyun is probably going to spend most of his time in bed, popping painkillers, but he seems so eager to embark on this new domestic journey that Doyoung can’t seem to mind.

“That sounds great.” Doyoung feels his lips quirk upward. “I’ve always wanted a house husband. And Jae?”

“Hm?”

“We love you too.”

Understanding seeps into Jaehyun’s eyes, a testament to the often-unheeded strength of their bond.

Their newfound peace is disrupted by Jaehyun’s parents, who burst into the room fretting and clucking, followed by Taeyong and Youngho. “Here.” Taeyong passes a tuna sandwich and a juice box to Doyoung. “You better finish the whole thing because if you faint on me again, I swear—”

“Who fainted?” Jaehyun interrupts, shooting a troubled glance at his husband. “Doyoung?”

“I didn’t _faint_.” Doyoung gives Taeyong a dirty look. “I…passed out for a minute or two.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Try 15 minutes,” he corrects.

“Oh, my poor son-in-law!” Before he even has time to react, Doyoung finds himself enfolded in his mother-in-law’s embrace. It’s sudden, though not entirely unwelcome after the tumultuous day he’s had. “And my poor grandbaby too. Just look at how much stress you’ve put them through today, Jaehyun-ah. The au _da_ city.”

Jaehyun refrains from rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I meant to get shot, Ma.”

“Your poor grand _son_ ,” quips Doyoung, giving his in-laws a tentative smile.

“Honey, did you hear that? A grandson!” Now Jaehyun’s parents are in tears, wrapped up in a hug that they’ve dragged Doyoung into, and at this point it’s unclear who’s consoling who.

From where they’re stood by the door, Youngho leans to whisper to Taeyong: “This family has a lot of tears to spare, huh?”

“A regular soap opera, this bunch,” Taeyong confirms.

“Hi! Is Jaehyun not around today?”

Doyoung blinks at the mailman, at least twice. “Uhm, he’s here. Just taking a shower.”

“It’s okay, you can just sign off on the package for him,” the mailman clarifies. “I’m Minhyung, by the way. And you must be his husband, Doyoung. Congrats on the baby!”

“…Thank you.”

Once the mailman leaves, Doyoung shuts the door and makes his way to the kitchen. He grabs a knife then tears into the package, caring little for the fact that it’s not addressed to him. After all, its contents aren’t exactly a secret.

He digs through the copious wads of paper in the box and pulls out an assortment of blankets and muslin cloths, together with a planet-themed crib mobile. “Ah, your father is ridiculous,” Doyoung mutters under his breath. He feels the roll of a tiny foot in his belly and snorts. “Good to know we agree on at least one thing.”

Opportunely, Jaehyun steps into the kitchen just as Doyoung finished arranging all the items on the kitchen counter. He then proceeds to give Doyoung his best kicked-puppy look.

“Your new best friend, Minhyung the Mailman, said hi,” Doyoung states, straight-faced.

“I know I’ve been doing a bit—”

“A _bit_?”

“— _too much_ of online shopping but in my defense, these were on sale and cute as hell. I couldn’t resist.” Jaehyun approaches him with a pout, wrapping his good arm around Doyoung’s middle. “Don’t tell me these aren’t adorable. I _know_ they are.”

“They are,” concedes Doyoung, grudgingly, “but completely unnecessary. Babe, you bought a _cashmere_ blanket.”

“Yeah, because babies get cold easily.”

“He’ll be born on the brink of summer.”

“We turn on the A/C during summer, so he’ll still be cold.”

Doyoung sighs.

His husband has been at home for four weeks now, singlehandedly generating the economy of South Korea with the paraphernalia he’s bought – and is still buying – for the baby. It’s getting absurd, especially after the rocking-horse Minhyung delivered four days ago, but Jaehyun is so pleased by his own efforts that Doyoung doesn’t have the heart to say no. He often finds himself indulging Jaehyun and his new habit, saying a silent prayer for their bank account in the process.

“If you keep buying stuff, we won’t get any presents at the baby shower,” Doyoung points out. He turns to lean against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“What baby shower?” Jaehyun wonders.

“Don’t play dumb. You know Taeyong is the worst at keeping secrets.”

“He told you?”

“No, he just keeps skulking around at work and hiding his phone from me. And giggling whenever anybody brings up the baby.”

“I wanted to get a professional party planner,” Jaehyun laments, “but if I did, we’d never hear the end of it from him.”

“Just let him have his fun. I’ll make sure to act surprised.”

Satisfied, Jaehyun leans down so he’s level with his husband’s stomach. “We’re throwing your daddy the best baby shower ever and it’s all for you, so you better behave,” he warns.

Their son stretches against Doyoung’s ribs, a swift movement that knocks the breath out of him. “I don’t think he liked getting told off like that.”

“Hm, I wonder whose stubborn streak he inherited,” Jaehyun teases. He pulls out a chair, which Doyoung takes gratefully. Once he’s seated, Jaehyun lifts his legs off the floor and into his lap. The steady increase in the baby’s weight has gone straight to Doyoung’s ankles, making them swell every now and then, so Jaehyun has been giving his husband foot massages as frequently as he could.

“You really shouldn’t do this,” Doyoung admonishes. “Your shoulder is healing nicely but I’m sure exerting so much effort to give me massages won’t help.”

“Relax. I can manage.” Arching an eyebrow, Jaehyun retorts, “It’s the least I can do for you, since I can’t do much for your back or your heartburn.”

A flush crawls up Doyoung’s neck. “I don’t—”

“Remember what the therapist said? It’s okay to complain.”

As much as Doyoung hates it whenever Jaehyun narrates their therapist’s advice to him, he tries to keep an open mind and comply with said advice. “I don’t like to complain because it seems like I’m ungrateful,” he confesses, “but it’s getting harder by the day. I mean, there’s still more than three months left but I feel like he can’t possibly get any bigger. Everything hurts. I miss spicy food. And _wine_.”

Jaehyun smiles, his amusement thinly veiled. “I’m sorry it’s so hard on you, but you’re doing an amazing job.” He leans back to take in the sight of his husband – cheeks pink, hair glossy, one hand on his belly that’s heavy with their first child. It’s a stunning view; one that he’s always subconsciously dreamed of but never truly dared to think about. Now that it’s here before him, he doesn’t know how he went so long without it.

“Quit staring.” Embarrassed, Doyoung nudges him in the stomach with his foot. “You’re gross.”

“I love you.” Jaehyun reaches for his hands, kisses his knuckles. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“For?” Doyoung asks, his gaze impossibly soft.

“For still being here.”

“I couldn’t possibly have gone anywhere else.” Doyoung sits up and cups Jaehyun’s chin with one hand, slotting their lips together in a rare initiation of affection. If Jaehyun is taken by surprise, he doesn’t show it. He simply moves closer and rests his broad hands on his husband’s hips.

The kiss deepens, intensifying, and when Doyoung starts to use a little too much tongue, Jaehyun pulls back and looks down, zeroing in at the tent in his husband’s jeans. “Babe, are you—”

“Hard as fuck? Yup.” Doyoung feels like his whole face is on fire but he powers through the mortification anyhow. “It’s just been so long, plus the hormones and I…” He cuts himself off with a huff that he’d like to think is dignified but is closer to a whine. “So are you going to help me fix this or do I have to take care of it myself?”

“It would be my pleasure to assist you,” Jaehyun reassures him with an expression that’s so serious he could only be teasing. “Now, if you could kindly follow me to the bedroom, that’s where we’ll—”

“ _Jung Jaehyun_.”

“Okay, okay.”

The baby is screeching, and there’s so much blood, _so much blood_ —

Jaehyun leaps into consciousness, sitting up so fast that the bed rocks with his jerky movements. He exhales, loud and harsh, fingers tangling into the sheets to ground himself.

“Jae?” Doyoung twists to face him, eyes half-closed. “Was it a nightmare?” He scrabbles for the switch and flicks on the bedside lights. “Hey,” he murmurs. “We’re safe. We’re okay.” He leans against Jaehyun’s shoulder drowsily, linking their hands together.

Despite the haze of sleep, Jaehyun is alert enough to notice something amiss. Doyoung’s hand is clammy but his forehead that’s pressed against the thin cotton of Jaehyun’s T-shirt feels unnaturally hot.

“You’re burning up.” Heart thundering against his ribcage, Jaehyun runs his palms over the expanse of his husband’s skin, ignoring the latter’s protests. “How long have you been sick?”

“I’ve had a sore throat for a day or two, that’s all,” Doyoung replies, coughing into a closed fist.

“Well, it’s not just a sore throat anymore, that’s for sure. We’re going to the ER.”

“Jae—”

“You’re almost eight months pregnant and running a high fever. We’re _going_ to the _ER_.”

The stern look Jaehyun fixes him with is one that Doyoung hasn’t encountered before, so he shuts up and gets out of bed.

In hindsight, Jaehyun thinks that he may have overreacted.

“It’s just the flu,” the doctor assures them. “With some medication, good rest and lots of water, Doyoung will be back on his feet in no time.”

“Not really, since I can’t remember the last time I saw my feet,” Doyoung jokes, which gets a laugh out of the doctor but not Jaehyun.

“Just take your meds at the counter, then you’re good to go, alright?” The doctor leaves them with a cheery wave.

Doyoung is so very tempted to poke fun at Jaehyun’s exaggerated response to his minor ailment now that they’re alone, but the desire fades at the hangdog expression on his husband’s face. “I freaked out,” Jaehyun breathes out. “I’m sorry.” He scrubs a hand over his face, handsome features subdued by exhaustion. “You tried to tell me you were fine and I should’ve listened.”

“You were just being careful,” Doyoung says. Couples therapy has given him an avenue into his husband’s mind, and now that he’s been made aware of the many troubles and worries that lay therein, he’s less inclined to assert his self-independence when the situation doesn’t truly call for it. “Besides, with the little one just weeks away, we can’t afford to take any risks.”

“How pissed is he that we woke him up for this?”

Chuckling, Doyoung reaches for Jaehyun’s hand, directs it to the underside of his belly. “Very.”

Jaehyun feels a series of thumps against his palm, either a foot or a knee. “I’m sorry, angel,” he sighs. “Daddy just gets a bit…anxious sometimes.”

“What was it this time?” asks Doyoung.

“The nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Something went wrong as he was being born. There was a lot of blood.” His answer is succinct, as always. Jaehyun never explains the nightmares in detail.

Doyoung pulls him closer until their foreheads are touching. “To ensure our collective safety, what’s within your control?”

“Keep you away from physical harm and free of illnesses.”

“What have you done tonight?”

“Overreacted over nothing?”

“Hey.” Scowling, Doyoung smacks him on the thigh. “Try again.”

“You were sick, so I brought you to the hospital to get checked.”

“Exactly, so you’ve done your part. Everything else is not up to you, or me.”

Still disheartened, Jaehyun counters, “It’s not that simple, baby.”

“These things never are. But if you keep focusing on the cons, you’ll end up missing the pros, Jae.” Brushing his thumb over Jaehyun’s cheekbone tenderly, Doyoung offers, “If you want to feel useful, I have an act of service that you can perform for me and by extension, for our son.”

“Is it the noodle shop or the burger joint?” Jaehyun grins, all too familiar with his husband’s hunger pangs this late into the pregnancy.

“Neither. Baby wants _gamjatang_.”

“It’s almost three in the morning. And need I remind you that you have the flu?”

“So? Our child has no concept of time, and the flu’s still gonna be there whether I eat or not.” Doyoung purposely juts out his lower lip. “Please? You wouldn’t want to disappoint your son even before he’s born, would you?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” declares Jaehyun, kissing him on the forehead first before leaning down and planting a kiss on the bump. “But we’re getting it to go, so you can eat it in bed, all warm and cozy.”

“While you give me a back rub?”

“Anything you want.”

Doyoung laces their fingers together as they walk out of the hospital. They pick up his favorite _gamjatang_ on their way home and before long, he’s devouring it in the comfort of their bedroom with Jaehyun fussing over him. They sleep, eventually, and though Doyoung is awakened by the aches and pains of pregnancy just three hours later, Jaehyun remains in deep slumber. His features are relaxed, free of all concerns.

Never in a million years would Doyoung have thought that the sight of someone sleeping could make him so inexplicably content.

After all that they’ve painstakingly endured, it’s only fitting that their son enters the world without much hassle. It was a textbook delivery, so tranquil and smooth that even the obstetrician and nurses are impressed.

“He’s perfect,” Jaehyun says, voice low. He’s next to Doyoung on the hospital bed, uncomfortable with the arrangement given how long his limbs are, but he bears with it, already unwilling to stray too far from their son.

“You’ve said that at least a dozen times since he was born.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

Doyoung doesn’t disagree, since he shares the same sentiment. “You _are_ perfect,” he coos to the newborn cradled in his arms. “And we love you so much.” Yawning widely, Jeno cracks an eye open, much to the delight of his doting parents. He squirms some more, and when his little face scrunches up, the indents in his cheeks deepen.

“Those dimples will be the death of me,” sighs Doyoung. “You two will be ganging up on me in no time.”

Chest rumbling with laughter, Jaehyun inches closer and wraps an arm around his husband. “I’ll try my best to take your side every now and then.” He nudges his finger into Jeno’s fist, nearly melting into a puddle when the baby curls his entire hand around the single digit. “Holy shit, I’m so in love with him. And with you.” He noses against Doyoung’s temple, throat suddenly tight. “Thank you for giving me everything.”

“Haven’t we cried enough today?” Doyoung reproaches him, blinking back tears, but he leans back into his hold regardless. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

There’s a knock on the door and they look up to see Taeyong, juggling a basket of flowers, balloons and a stuffed bunny. “Is he asleep?” he whispers.

“No, he’s kind of awake. Just keep your voice down anyway.” Doyoung adjusts the cap on Jeno’s head. “This here is Jeno. Seven pounds even, ten fingers, ten toes and his daddy’s dimples.”

“He’s beautiful,” Taeyong gushes. “Congrats, you two.” Overcome by emotion, he embraces Jaehyun first, then Doyoung. He peers at Jeno, brushing the back of his hand against the baby’s cheek. “Hey, little guy. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Having studied the infant closely, he couldn’t help but giggle. “Ah, Doie, it looks like Jaehyun cloned himself.”

“Well, I can’t exactly complain. I can look at both faces all day.” Now that he’s been holding Jeno for close to half an hour, Doyoung finds that his arms have gotten stiff. “Would you like to hold your godson?”

“My g-godson? For real?” Taeyong questions, seeking confirmation. His eyes are suspiciously wet.

“Only if you want to,” says Jaehyun.

“I’d be honored.” Carefully, Taeyong takes Jeno from Doyoung and cuddles him to his chest. “Youngho is going to be so pissed you didn’t pick him, though.”

“He already knows. Says he’s got dibs on the next one.”

“Next one? Already planning to have an entire football team, are we?” Taeyong jests. “Can you believe your parents, Jeno-yah? You’re only five hours old and they’re already talking about giving you a sibling.”

Unruffled, Doyoung retorts, “If you and Youngho keep up the friendly banter then maybe Jeno would have a pseudo-cousin sooner than a sibling.” His jab achieves the desired effect, if the blush dusting Taeyong’s cheeks is anything to go by. “We’ll see,” is the noncommittal response Taeyong gives him.

Before the teasing could go any further, Jeno starts to whimper, straining against the blanket he’s swaddled in. Jaehyun swoops in to retrieve him from Taeyong.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures Taeyong, who seems rather guilty. “He’s due for his next feed soon, so he’s a bit cranky. I’m going to get the nurse to prepare him a bottle.” He squeezes Doyoung on the shoulder before leaving the room, Jeno secure in the crook of his arm.

Once Jaehyun is out of earshot, Taeyong turns to Doyoung. “As expected, he’s a natural.”

“Of course,” Doyoung agrees, his smile fond. “Jaehyun is so competitive that he has to be the best at everything, including being a dad.” He signals for Taeyong to help rearrange the pillows he’s resting against, which his friend is more than happy to do. “Before you ask – yes, everything hurts. My whole body is sore.”

“I sympathize,” Taeyong tells him. “How do you feel, though? As in you, as a person.”

“Exhausted,” Doyoung begins. Then he looks around the room, every surface littered with presents, countless bouquets of flowers and colorful balloons. His eyes land on the Polaroid on the bedside table next to him, that a nurse had helpfully taken for them just after Jeno was born. Frankly, it’s not a great picture; he’s drenched in sweat, Jaehyun is crying so much that he looks half-crazed, and fresh out of the oven, Jeno doesn’t look all that cute either.

“But happy,” he finishes. “So happy.”

“He hates us.” Doyoung sits up, shoving the blankets aside. He’s positive that he had _just_ fallen asleep after Jeno’s last feed yet the baby is awake again, snuffling in an all-too-familiar manner that is sure to lead to squalling if they don’t tend to him fast enough. “I just know that he hates us.”

“Let me,” Jaehyun mumbles as he pulls his husband back into bed. His eyes are at half-mast, hair sticking out at odd ends.

Doyoung wants to protest, since Jaehyun had gotten home from a late shift less than an hour ago, but he’s so bone-tired that he simply sinks into the mattress. “I’ll get him the next time,” he promises, yawning. He tracks Jaehyun’s movements in the dim light, how he clumsily stumbles to the sturdy pine crib at the foot of their bed. It’s Jaehyun’s old crib when he was a baby, which his father had diligently repainted for Jeno.

The moment he’s lifted out of the crib, Jeno’s cries taper off and he clings to Jaehyun, burrowing into his T-shirt for warmth. “He doesn’t hate us, Doie. He just wanted to cuddle.” Jaehyun rocks their son, humming some lullaby or other under his breath.

“Mm, bring him here.”

Even in the semi-darkness, the mirth on Jaehyun’s face is apparent. “I thought you’re against letting him sleep in the same bed as us,” he teases. Rolling his eyes, Doyoung refutes, “We’ll put him back in the crib when he goes back to sleep. Now let me just snuggle with our son.”

“Just our son?” Jaehyun asks innocently.

“And his father too, I guess, since they’re a package deal and all that.”

Jaehyun eases back onto the bed, their son spread-eagled on him. Once he’s settled, Doyoung sidles closer and lays his head down on Jaehyun’s chest. “A month in and I still can’t believe we have an actual kid,” says Doyoung. He traces Jeno’s little nose with his forefinger, quickly withdrawing when the baby sneezes. “Oops.”

“I can’t believe it either.” Throwing an arm around Doyoung, Jaehyun kisses the top of his head. “I’ve always wanted a family with you but I didn’t quite know how that would end up happening. This? It’s beyond my wildest dreams.”

“Too corny,” Doyoung complains, but he nuzzles his husband’s neck nonetheless. “Love you.”

“Same here.”

Doyoung reaches for his phone to check the time. The screen flashes, the date printed neatly below the time. “Hey, Jae.” He pokes Jaehyun in the cheek. “It’s 1.27 am. Past midnight.”

“And?” prompts Jaehyun, confused.

“Happy anniversary. Five years.”

Jaehyun looks at him, bewildered, and glances at his own phone to see the date. “It _is_ our anniversary,” he remarks. “Wow. Honestly, babe, I have nothing planned. I completely forgot about it.”

“I’d say you have good reason to,” Doyoung remarks, pointedly patting Jeno on his diapered bottom. “I forgot too.” He’s sure that he could come up with something, get movie tickets or book a dinner at the fancy Italian restaurant they both like, but then they’d have to leave their son behind. Even if for only a few hours, he’s reluctant to let Jeno out of his sight and he knows that Jaehyun is too. “But,” he drawls, “I have something planned for us.”

Jaehyun raises his eyebrows, intrigued. “Really?”

“Yeah. Once you come home from work, I’m going to make us ramen for dinner, because I’m too tired to make anything better. Then, we’ll take turns eating since our son wants to be held constantly. If we’re lucky and he sleeps for more than two hours at a time, I can give you a quick handjob in the bathroom, provided we bring the baby monitor inside with us.”

It’s a far cry from their previous anniversaries that were commemorated with opulent meals and fervent lovemaking, but Jaehyun doesn’t mind in the least. “Sounds like a good plan to me,” he affirms, laughing. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

They share a kiss that has no real heat, only a stolen moment in their new hectic life as parents to a newborn, but Doyoung is certain that this is their best anniversary yet, and this time...

...this time, he doesn’t have to worry if there’s more to come.


End file.
